


fire and powder

by snowspriestess



Series: Multichapters [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Character Death, F/M, Heavy Angst, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-14 03:11:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10527633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowspriestess/pseuds/snowspriestess
Summary: these violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder, which as they kiss, consume.





	1. shattered

The nightshift lasted until the first hours of the dawn that day. The black of the sky was turning pink, purple clouds shifting along the horizon.

Jon was on the way to his room, frozen to the bone and exhausted from the long hours outside. His coat was wet with snow, snowflakes were melting in his hair. He was already at the step of his door, ready to push down the handle and enter, as he heard the loud shattering of glass on a wooden floor.

The noise originated from the room next to his, the room he know quite well. _Her_ room.

For a moment he hesitated, listening if any sound would follow. But everything remained quiet. A bit too quiet, actually.

Even though he did not want to, had sworn to himself to stay away from her, to not break his vows _again,_ he turned and went back down the hallway to her room. He knocked twice, first very quiet but the second one louder. The silence stayed for a few more seconds. Jon thought about turning around. Turning around and going to bed, just like he had intended. But something kept him from doing so.

He pushed the door open, entering.

Warmth greeted him, a familiar kind. The kind created by candles and fire, the kind created by Melisandre.   
She was kneeling on the floor as he came in, a pile of broken glass in front of her. A red liquid had spread across the brown of the wooden floor, turning them dark. It was also covering her pale white arms, running all over her hands. It took him one more second to realize that it was in fact blood.

The scarlet of her eyes was the same color as the blood on her fingers, it seemed to be oddly matching. He was even surprised she bled at all, considering he had always wondered if she was in fact even human.

Her voice ripped him out of his trance, made him able to look somewhere else but the red liquid. “What are you doing here?” Her voice was trembling a little, like she had trouble speaking. Like she was in pain. _Oh she must be._

Jon forgot his vows for a second, forgot his intentions to stay away. He sunk to the floor next to her, the smell of the blood heavy in his nose. There was so much. _How could she cut herself so heavily?_ “I'm here to help”, was all he said, it was enough for the moment.

Carefully he took her arms in his hands, examining the cuts. There were quite many, more than he had hoped. Glass splitters were still projecting out of the skin, the blood still running. “We have to get these out.”   
  
She was frowning, if in pain or disagreement he was not quite sure. He could hear that her breathing was quite unsteady already, causing him to look at her face. His fingers traveled to the first glass fragment in her skin. They needed to be extracted and the wounds had to be taken care of by a maester, but he did not dare to leave her alone right now in fear of her passing out. “I'm going to take these out alright?”

Melisandre did not answer, only nodded slightly. Her eyes were clouding, he could see it already. She was losing too much blood, the shards might have hit an artery.

He took the fragments into his hand and pulled carefully, releasing even more blood. She gasped in pain for a second, tensing her body. “Does it hurt?” he wanted to know, watching her uneven breathing. Her face was even more pale than usual, her hands actually felt cold in his. That was definitely not a good sign.

Nevertheless, she shook her head. “It's fine”, she muttered, her voice shaking with every breath.

He had to get her to the maester now. Carefully, he moved closer and pulled one of his arms around her waist.

“What are you doing?” she protested weakly, watching in surprise as he lifted her into his arms. “I'm fine”, she repeated, but her eyes said something different. She was still bleeding heavily, the read dress already covered in blood stains.

Jon was more worried than he liked to admit, carrying her out of the room carefully. He felt her head resting against his body more and more, her eyelids seeming to become heavier. “Stay awake, okay?” He tried to not sound too alarmed.

“I am”, was all she replied, but her voice was silent and almost trembling. For a second she was quiet. “Thank you for getting me.”

He could not stop the little smile. “Anytime.”

_But she did not hear him anymore._


	2. Revealed

Jon stood in the hallway outside the maester's chambers. It was very quiet, apart from the sound of his beating heart. Her blood was still on his clothes, the scarlet drops coloring the black furs. It had been several minutes – _or seconds?_ he was not quiet sure – since the maester had come back at him and told him that he had saved Melisandre's life. A few minutes later and he could not have done anything, he had said, smiling a reassuring smile.

The words were still stuck in Jon's head, together with the images of bloody hands and ripped skin. The salty smell of blood seemed to hang in the air still, her red eyes clouding with pain haunted his memory. The very thought of losing her had changed something inside him, something he was not sure how to explain.

Until now he had always seen his attraction to her as something that would pass by, as something that was only based on those haunting good looks and reassuring words into his ear, and not much on actual feelings. Now it felt different, deeper of some sorts. He would not have been able to put it into words.

It took him a long debate with himself until he finally decided to go in. Being alone with her almost scared him, since her presence made it next to impossible to remain distant, something that he had sworn himself. He would not break his vows again.

After Ygritte he had made the same promise and broken it with Melisandre, more than once to his own shame. But he was determined now, serious. He would only look out for her, no more. It was his duty, sort of, since he was the Lord Commander. She might not be a member of the nightswatch, but she lived under his roof and it was his duty to protect her as well.

He knocked before he entered, only due to politeness, since he did not wait for her to call him inside but simply went in. The room was oddly cold considering Melisandre was in it and it brought back the memory of how cold her body had felt in his arms, how white and lifeless her skin had looked, apart from the red blood all over it.

Her face was still more pale than usual, but the familiar shimmer was back in her eyes as she looked at him. Her thin wrists were covered in dressings, which were bloodstained and therefore slightly pink.

He looked at her for a second, a strange sort of content filling him. He had almost lost her, over something stupid like a broken glass. Which brought him back to his original question, how something like that had even happened. He approached her further. “How are you feeling?” he wanted to know first.

Melisandre smiled, almost shyly. It was nothing like the confident, teasing smile he knew. “Thanks to you I am still here.” Their eyes met for a second. “Thank you.” There was something else she wanted to say, he could feel it, but she held back. Not the right time, maybe.

It was silent for a moment, until he raised his voice. “How did it happen?”

Her face did not react to the words, but there was something in her eyes, no more than a little flick, almost not noticeable. Which had been her intention, perhaps. She swallowed, her fingers playing with the bedsheets. She was nervous, taking her time with the answer. Her eyes looked down on the bed, then back at him. Her features were not quiet as unmoved as before. Before speaking, she took a deep breath. “There's something I need to tell you.”

The words caused him to frown, worry rising up in his body. Slowly he approached her bed, sitting down on the mattress next to her. “Okay”, he answered. “Tell me.”

She was biting her lip now, something he had never seen her do. Melisandre did not get nervous or scared. She was confident, always sure of what to do or say. He had never seen her hesitate. Now she seemed truly afraid to speak. Her voice was low and quiet. “I had a vision this morning, as I was reading the flames.”   
  
Jon nodded, encouraging her to continue. His heart was beating fast by now.

She looked at him, scarlet eyes searching his own. “I saw myself burning someone at the stake.” Her gaze never left him. “It were you. _I burned you_.”

Her voice died with the last word, leaving nothing but an inexplicable sadness in the air between them. His jaw dropped slightly, as he was trying to make sense of the words. He was not quite able to connect the two events. “What does that mean?” he asked, his voice monotone and distant, like it was not himself they were speaking of.

Melisandre reached for his hand, her fingers still oddly cold. She enclosed his hand with hers, her eyes filled with a strange pain, that he could not really explain.

 _Why would it hurt her so much?_ He wanted to pull away his hand, wanted to leave, but something stopped him. It felt like he had no more control over his body, as he was someone else, sort of.

She went on speaking. “It means that the Lord demands from me to sacrifice you.”

Jon watched the fast motions of her chest, the blinking of her eyelids, the way her fingers held onto his in desperation. _Sacrifice,_ she had said. She always used that word, he had heard it a thousand times, but today she had said it differently. Like it was her own sacrifice, not the world's. Like she was losing something herself, not just offering it to her red god. Like he truly _meant_ something to her.

“So what are you going to do, let Stannis' men chain me up and carry me to the stake? Am I just here so they can get me easily?” His voice sounded bitter in his ears, far away, like somebody else had spoken.

The words seemed to hurt her, since she withdraw her hand. The absence of her pained him, made him feel awfully empty. He hated her for it. For having such power. She seemed to think about her words for a few seconds. “I'm sorry that you think of me like that”, her voice was trembling, like she was about to cry. “but I would much rather sacrifice myself than you.”

There was an uncomfortable pause, Jon was not sure of what to say. Too much surprise had been caused by her honesty. She smiled a little, a sad smile. “You are my champion, my prince. You are not the sacrifice that has to be made.”

He knew exactly who and what she meant, but oh how much he wished that he didn't.

 


	3. Burned

“You can't be serious.” It had taken Jon some time to regain his voice, but now he sounded angry. _What was she thinking?_ He would never let her do this, not ever. She must have gone mad, still be confused due to the loss of blood. She did not know what she was saying. _Sacrifice herself for him,_ that was crazy.

Melisandre frowned, her red eyes stirring with confusion. “You have not understood, have you?” She moved slightly closer, her pale fingers now resting on his arm. It was strange, since the familiar warmth of her skin was not quite there. “You are the Prince that was promised”, she added, with the usual urgentness he already knew. She had said this a thousand times, over and over, trying to convince him. Never had he believed her, not even with her lips on his neck.

“If I am truly your prince, why would your Lord tell you to burn me?” It was a serious question, since Jon was still trying to put the pieces together. He was not sure what to think of this, at this point of time. Too many unanswered questions, still.

She sighed, remaining silent for a moment.

Her face was still filled with a sort of pain that he could not explain, that made him wonder why she would do this for him. A little part of him even considered that she might have something like feelings for him, real feelings.

Finally she answered. “That was never the intention.” There was a short pause. Jon could hear her breathing. “The Lord wanted me as a sacrifice, not you.”

Her words were not making any sense, at least not to Jon. He was frowning deeply. “I don't understand”, he admitted.

Melisandre's fingers traveled across his arm, obviously nervous. They trembled a little, he noticed. She stopped moving as she continued talking. “When I saw the vision last night I knew that I could not do it. That I could never-” she broke off, catching her breath. Her voice was shaking heavily. Jon was afraid she might start to cry. But she only continued. “I took the glass and broke it, cutting myself with it.” He was only slowly beginning to understand the meaning behind her words. “I tried to end my life, to sacrifice it. Because I could never sacrifice you.”

She looked up at him, tears glowing in her eyes. It was very quiet. Melisandre seemed to have stopped breathing, her grip on his arm seemed to intensify. It was the most human he had ever seen her. Not even with the glass shards in her skin had she looked so vulnerable, so defenseless. It was as if a wall had fallen down and had only left the blank honesty in her eyes.

 _I tried to end my life._ The words echoed in Jon's head, slowly making sense. She had done this for him. Why he did not know, but it had been to save him. He did not know what to say, not the smallest idea. This mouth felt like it had lost its ability to speak, his brain did not produce any words anymore. His mind had gone blank.

He felt like crying, screaming, being angry. He felt like leaving. This was too much, everything was too much. But he could not move. His body did not react at all.

Melisandre's eyes searched his own, but he escaped her look.

“Please say something.” Her body shifted closer, so she could look at him. “Anything, please.”

He shook his head. “I don't know what.” Her face was close to his now, he could feel her breath on his skin. _It was not supposed to be like this._ Still, he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips onto hers. A desperate attempt to hold onto her. It felt unreal even being there, sitting there, talking. The world was spinning out of control.

It was a short kiss, teeth and tongue and desperation. He withdraw as they broke apart, maintaining some space. “You are not going to sacrifice yourself for me”, he declared, determination in his voice. He did not know what this was between them, but he would not lose her. He could not bear that. He simply couldn't.

She smiled a sad smile. “This is how it is supposed to be. I have nothing more to give to the Lord, apart from my life.”

Jon shook his head. “He doesn't deserve it. If he demands from you to die, he is evil.” He was desperate to get through to her, to change her mind. How could she believe this, still, after all that happened? How could she still cling to her God, to this madness?

“Good and evil is not always that simple”, she replied, her voice low and quiet. But there were no more tears. “You are going to save the world from the Great Other. That is all that matters.”

He clenched his jaw. “Not to me. _You_ matter to me.” It was his last card to play, a desperate attempt to win her back.

He already knew what her answer would be, though, that he had lost. He took her face into his hands, felt the cold of her skin. “Don't do this, please.”

Melisandre escaped his look. Her fingers enclosed his wrists. “I have to.” Their eyes met for a second. “Forgive me”, she whispered, before drawing back and jumping from the bed.

Without another word she left the room.

 

He sat in silence for some time, minutes, seconds, he did not know. The world seemed to drift away in front of his eyes, seemed to blur away into one big inexplicable mess.

It took him long until he was able to get up and leave, making his way into the yard. He would stop her. _He had to._ This was madness, she had no idea what she was doing. Had her fanaticism gone so far? Was she really willing to kill herself for a god?

 _She's doing it for you,_ a voice in his head whispered. _Not for her god, but for you._ Even the thought of it weighted a ton, seemed to suffocate him.

Jon hasted through the yard of Castle Black, looking around him. Melisandre was nowhere to be seen, but he noticed that someone had opened the gate. _Oh please not._ He began to ran, through the tunnel and to the gate.

Grenn was standing there, just about to close it again. “Hey Jon”, he greeted him, frowning slightly but remaining silent.

“Where is she?” he demanded, much more harsh than he had wanted. Not that it mattered. _Nothing mattered anymore._

“Oh, she left”, his friend answered, wanting to say something more but Jon had already started to run again.

His lungs were burning with cold, it had begun to snow again, but something on the horizon had drawn his attention. It was a fire. He stumbled in the snow, almost fell, but never slowed down. But as he reached the stake at last, it was empty.

The fire was crackling quietly, and the red flames danced in the wind. A red gown was lying in the white snow at his feet, a drop of blood on pale skin.

Jon fell to his knees. The realization hit him so hard that he could no longer bear to stand. _He had lost her._ She was no longer there. Never again would he feel her lips, her fingers, never again look into her eyes. She was gone, and it was his fault.

Tears filled his eyes, the snow made seeing more and more hard. But the fire burned on and on, against the cold.

She had made him love her, and he had never had the chance to tell her. She had bewitched him, so he could no longer live without her and now she was gone. _Gone. Gone._ The word echoed in his head like a deadly mantra, choking him. His lungs were cold as ice, every inhale of breath caused a sharp ache in his chest.

Very slowly he got up, his eyes fixed on the flames. They were as red as her eyes, as her hair, as _her._ She had been his last light in the darkness and he was back in the cold.

He swallowed hard. “I loved you”, he whispered, so quiet that he could not even hear it himself. _R'hllor, if you do exist, take care of her._ He could only hope that she was not in the same darkness now where he had once been. He knew how afraid she was of the dark.

Jon made one more step towards the stake. The heat of the fire crept across his skin, like a lover's kiss. Like her kiss.

He felt her very last burning touch, before the fires closed on around him and the world died in an army of flames.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was the last chapter of this little story, I hope you liked it and aren't too sad about the ending now x


End file.
